Random Drabbles
by mikaru zero
Summary: Self-explanatory title. Includes the Randomness chapters. :D FINISHED. Oh, Jumbling the real order of the chapters is done on purpose. 'Cause I feel like it :D And some words are in Filipino; just saying, for the non-Filipino readers  - meron kasi eh.
1. Smile

Title: Smile  
Author: mikaruzero  
Pairing: Lyra/JV, but POV: Denzel  
Word Count: 284 words

Ficlet number: 5  
Warnings: None I can see... :D

Disclaimer: None.

Summary: You still make me smile.

Even if you're the main reason why I'm sad.

"What! We're not going out!" said a familiar voice.

"What, MU lang?" said a voice I didn't recognize.

"No!"

Curious, I turned around. It was Lyra, along with some of her friends. I wonder what are they talking about?

"Psst! Here he comes!" said the girl I think whose name is.. Maan.

I sneaked a peek to the 'he' she was talking about. What I saw was a tall thin boy wearing glasses.

Some of the girls, I noticed, were giggling a bit. Confused, I looked at Lyra's face. Was she blushing? Oh.

I get it… But what is this feeling welling up inside me? I can't understand…

_Why couldn't_we_be together? Why did you choose him? Am I not good enough?_

These thoughts filled up my head simultaneously. My friends wondered on why I fell silent. As they pestered me, I sneaked one last glance at Lyra.

She was smiling. Her smile that was as bright as the warm summer sun, had some kind of magic that sent all of my previous thoughts out of my mind. Her smile that was so gentle yet so full of energy for some reason makes me forget all of my worries before.

Except one. The sadness that fills me up didn't go away even one bit.

Why?

Because I now realize that her lovable and enchanting smile is now _his_, and the least I could do is… just be happy for her.

For finding someone better.


	2. Key

Title: Key  
Author: mikaruzero  
Pairing: Blessie/Horace, but POV: Tim  
Word Count: 311 words

Ficlet number: 4  
Warnings: None I can see... :D

Disclaimer: None. Again.

Summary: I want to keep you in my heart

Lock it and throw away the key

So that no one can take you away from me

"Tim!"

I turned around at the sound of that familiar voice.

"What is it, Blessie?"

She stopped running when she neared me and tried to catch her breath. She was panting less then, when she said, "Want to come? We're going to celebrate my birthday and I was hoping that you'd come."

"Oh. Well I –"

I was about to say that I'd love to come but I saw something that kept the words I was about to say hanging and my mouth shut. Blessie noticed what I was looking at and, to my surprise, waved at them.

"Ah, Tim. We –she pointed to the crowd – are going to celebrate at SM. So, still coming? Please say yes.." she pouted and flashed me her trademark 'Blessie face'.

Much as I want to come, I kept my true feelings and thoughts shut in my heart and instead, told her a fib. "Sorry, we have practice today."

"Oh… That's too bad. I really hoped that you'd come."

I could've blurted out at that moment that I'd come instead, but then he showed up.

"Hi Blessie. Shall we go?"

"Ah, okay. Bye Tim!"

"See you later."

I still couldn't say goodbye. Even though we're not together anymore, why couldn't I say it? After all these years I still keep, if not all, at least a part of you here in my heart. And this time, I'll guard the key.

I won't throw the key ever again; 'cause someone else may end up finding it again.

And I don't ever want that to happen.


	3. Wall

Title: Wall  
Author: mikaruzero  
Pairing: Nathalie/Don  
Word Count: 1292 words

Ficlet number: 7  
Warnings: None I can see... :D

Disclaimer: I love this pairing. :D La lang, sharing. Cookies to those who like this pairing also!

Summary: It all began with a wall.

When you two met at the age of eleven, you couldn't think of two more different people. You were complete opposites of each other. Priorities, interests, even your personalities, clashed. You thought, how can we possibly get along? She was the interesting and easily-flustered newcomer while you were the quiet and boring guy who doesn't care about other people's business. Yet there it was the feeling of wanting to know what _her_world was like; you involuntarily felt inclined to watch her every expression, remember everything she says as if it was of utmost importance, and gaze in wonder at her reactions to randomly normal things as she struggles to adjust to her new school. You thought, how can you possibly muster the courage to enter her world?

The way your relationship with her was like a wall. Looking up and down, left and right, the wall seemed endless. So many hurdles and questions that needed to be overcome and answered. Looking at it, you couldn't help but think it was impossible, but… you wanted to know what was behind that wall. You wanted to see what she looked like.

So with a sigh, you took a chisel and hammer and carefully began to chip away. You began slowly, almost reluctantly, and you avoided seeing how much more you had to do. It would have only made you lose hope.

Each brick you hammered at had a question or doubt engraved into it. Can you really be friends? Is it worth all the trouble? Maybe she doesn't like me… But you pushed forward, breaking a brick down until that doubt had disappeared. Then you would shuffle over, and start on a new one.

It was tiring work, and the thought had often risen in your mind that you should quit. After all she didn't seem willing to break down that wall. Her demeanor going in between stubborn and playful acts often threw you off guard and left you with more misgivings about your relationship. In no way did she seem to notice, let alone appreciate, your efforts.

Why do I have to do this when she doesn't care?

But… you wanted to know her. You had to see it with your own eyes, so you kept chipping away with that rusty chisel and hammer.

If only you had stopped for a second and listened. You would have heard clinking on the other side. She had her own chisel and hammer, too…

After what seemed like a lifetime (but was really, in fact, a few short years), you had become friends amazingly, even with your differences. Half of the wall had crumbled away, and you could peek through the cracks to see parts of her. A smile. A tear. A laugh.

As you looked through the tiny holes, you couldn't help but think "It isn't enough. I want to see more."

But it's so tempting to stop. With the wall halfway done, people couldn't say you didn't try, and your relationship had finally reached a stable point. You glanced over the other half of the wall, still intact and boldly standing over you. You noticed that the doubts and fears are scarier than any you had ever seen. You could almost feel the pain you might experience trying to answer them.

I have what I want! Why risk it all?

You knew, however, somewhere in your mind that you wanted more. It wasn't something you could control. A feeling unidentified had sprouted, and you wanted to see it grow. You had come this far already. Why stop now?

You took a shaky breath, and closing your eyes tight, you stepped into the unknown. It was dark and dank, and you could smell the apprehensive scent of insecurity. But if you could just break down the wall, you trusted that it would all disappear in a warm glow.

You began with your trusty chisel and hammer once again. You quickly realized that these bricks took longer and were much harder to break down. Why do I blush around her? Why do I fall apart around her? I wonder if she… likes me as more than a friend. With each brick that crumbled, the picture became clearer. Not only the picture of her, but the picture of your feelings and thoughts.

You were thrown off guard and blushed around her more often than usual now, and sometimes you even lost your voice; the words you wanted to say seem stuck in your throat. You would glance over at her when she wasn't looking and secretly wondered if she was doing the same. Your thoughts revolved around her. You dreamed of her dark obsidian eyes. Your heart hammered against your ribcage so fast when she stood next to you that you often worried you might die. It was all coming together… and it scared you.

There were times the clinks and clanks of your tools stopped. You just sat there, frozen. The things you found out about yourself, sometimes, were too much, and you felt the urgent need to run from it all. How could breaking down this wall reveal so much about you? When had breaking down this wall become everything to you? When… had she become everything to you?

Finally, you reach the final brick, perhaps the toughest one you had ever seen. With this one gone, you could finally see all of her. But, you gulped, how could you possibly answer this?

Do you love her?

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. That feeling that so long ago you couldn't identify was about to burst. It finally found its name. With a confidence you hadn't felt before, you raised the hammer high above your head and smashed it down onto the brick.

It crumbled much easily than you thought it would have, and you felt a heavy weight lifted off your shoulders. The wall… was gone. After all these years, you had finally reduced it to rubble.

You looked around, and there she was with her chisel and hammer in hand, slightly shocked that the last brick had been torn down.

Your mind clouded, and your heart filled to the brim with that feeling. You could finally see her. After years of tearing down the wall between you, you could finally see her. All of her. Relief washed over you, but were immediately replaced by worry as she sunk down onto her knees with tears leaking out of her eyes.

You walked over, slightly anxious over witnessing her cry. In a nervous habit, she ran a hand through her wild hair and tried to smile. You kneeled beside her, and in your own stiff way, gave her a hug trying to tell her that everything is fine. She couldn't help but chuckle a little at your awkwardness, but she knows she wouldn't have you any other way.

You wiped off the tears still flowing on her face and she smiled a little bit more widely. Almost in a rush and slightly embarrassed, she told you everything she had found out about yourself trying to break down the wall.

You listen and smile. Then you lean over and whisper something in her ear, and her face flushed.

It supposedly all began with a wall.

But the true beginning starts here.

Author's Note:

Medyo magulo sya.. :D Yung eyes ni Nathalie di ko alam kung brown ba o black, so by random choice gnawa ko nlang black :))

Sorry kung di nyo ma-gets yung story, medyo vague sya ehh. :)


	4. Patience

Title: Patience  
Author: mikaruzero  
Pairing: Denzel/Lyra  
Word Count: 436 words

Ficlet number: 10  
Warnings: None I can see... :D

Disclaimer: : Oh, the usual.

Summary: Patience, as Denzel soon will realize, is truly such a beautiful virtue. Good thing he has lots of it.

"Lyra, just choose," said Denzel, struggling to keep his annoyance from seeping out on his tone.

"I can't," cried Lyra, frantically wringing her hands.

"What do you mean you can't? The choices are right in front of you."

"I…" trailed Lyra. Lyra's expression told Denzel that she was thinking hard how to phrase her thoughts into words. Sure enough, Lyra burst out, with an indignant voice, "It's not as easy as it looks! I have to _really_ think about it. You can't rush me –"

"Rush you?" said Denzel, his strained composure pushing itself to the limit. "We've been standing here for almost an _hour_."

"You're not fair! You think this is so easy. I'm making the biggest decision of my life here! Well, _one_ of them, but who cares about that particular detail? The point is –"

Denzel wanted to roar. He wanted to rip his hair out until not a single strand remains clinging to his head. He wanted to bang his head on the wall, or to the nearby table about an arm's length away from him. He wanted to do an assortment of morbidly stupid things which are better off unsaid (or typed, for that matter). But Denzel, being the sensible yet cool person that he was, restrained himself and focused to reach a steady calm. He succeeded, to some extent.

"Lyra," implored Denzel. "Please. Do all of us here a favor and get this over with, once and for all."

Lyra's eyebrows scrunched up. "I STILL can't decide."

Denzel mentally groaned. "Why not?" he demanded.

"Um.." said Lyra hesitantly, peering at the opposite direction with the slightest motion, almost unnoticeable.

Denzel caught sight of this, however, and followed where Lyra's gaze was heading at. His eyes landed on whatever it was (they were) that caused all of this painfully long commotion. He raised an eyebrow. "What? All of that hour-long wait just because of them?" He pointed at the object(s) of their discussion.

"Err.."

Denzel sighed, and turned to the attendant in front of the counter. "Those two over there please. We'll pick them up later."

Denzel heard Lyra yap delightedly and hug him. As he returned the embrace, he couldn't help but think that girls could sometimes be difficult in such absurdly insignificant and simple things, like picking a birthday cake.


	5. WHAT?

Title: What?  
Author: mikaruzero  
Pairing: NONE.  
Word Count: 899 words

Ficlet number: 9  
Warnings: Be prepared for _my_ (yes, that's me in this fic) insanity.

Disclaimer: I do not own Nathalie. (Don does, though. :D)

Summary: This story is an insight to one of Nathalie's insanity-filled afternoons. Reading this may make you avoid elevators, so be warned. :)

Randomness Chapter I

**9. WHAT?**

…_What_.

– The reaction people get when confronted by something that doesn't make sense.

POV: I don't know. (Maybe me. Or you, If you want to. I just thought this up randomly, during.. uh, Physics. The poor unfortunate being to be tortured by randomness here shall be…*laughs manically* Nathalie.)

"What are you doing?" asked Nathalie, her eyebrows scrunched up in puzzlement.

I looked up, and answered, "I'm marking my personal space."

"..What?" said Nathalie, her mouth hanging open slightly because of.. I don't know – my answer had been pretty clear.

Making the finishing touches with the chalk I held firmly in my hand, I gestured to her the symmetrical square on the floor surrounding me. "My personal space." I announced.

"Don't be ridiculous." She frowned.

I stood up and told her, in a puzzled tone, "No, I'm not."

"We're in a freaking _elevator_, and you just drew a square on the floor – with chalk."

"Huh?" What did she want me to do, then? Do it… with a pentel pen instead?

"You can't have a personal space in here!" she screeched.

"Really?"

"Really."

"Aww. Okay then.."

I was erasing the square, when I accidentally released my hold on the chalk. I saw Nathalie start to reach for it from the corner of my eye.

"Hey, that's _mine_!" I screamed. She raised an eyebrow at this.

I frowned at her, deeper still, when a sudden thought crossed my mind. "I know what you're trying to do – _you're_ jealous of _my_ personal space so you told me to erase it; then you are going to draw your own… with _my_ chalk!"

"What! Be reasonable!"she said, her eyebrows scrunching up again.

"Ha! Admit it. It's true right?" I said in a confident tone.

"NO! Ugh, what is wrong with you today.."

The elevator stopped, and the doors opened with a ding. The other passenger, the spectator to all of the madness, stepped out; but not before farting directly in front of the two.

"Oh, PU! That stinks!" cried Nathalie, waving her hand in front of her.

I agreed, waving a hand as well; but a question kept nagging my head about Nathalie's last statement so I asked her, "What does PU stand for?"

"…WHAT?"

"PU. Why do we say PU? Why can't we say DE? Or AQ? Or RP? Pee you? That doesn't make sense."

"Uhh.."

I rambled on. "What does it mean? Do you know? You don't? Hmm.. I have a few guesses, though. Can it stand for _Puke Up_? You could call this projectile. Only you'd be doing it _upward._ You know, puking up? _Throwing_ up? Make sense? Still, maybe it could also stand for _Putrid Uglies_, though what an Ugly is, or if they exist, I cannot really fathom –"

I stopped short, noticing just now that Nathalie had been staring intently at me for the past few minutes. I looked at her questioningly. Then her eyes widened, and she pointed at me. "You.. you're one of THEM!" Then she backed away slowly to one of the corners of the elevator...

"..what?" I said, staring at her.

A whole minute had passed…

..When suddenly she frowned, and then I was more confused than ever. "This is so not _fair_! How can _you_ get away with doing something random but _I_ can't?" she sighed with fake distress.

"Because you're so appallingly predictable, loopy, psychophiliac, fascinatingly bizarre, vanilla-loving, obsessed, heliomanic, wild but organized, GC –" I stopped rambling and looked at Nathalie. "Do you want me to continue?"

She slapped her forehead and messed her messy hair even more in reply (how she did that, I don't know), as the familiar ding of the elevator rang and the doors opened with a flourish.

**AN: Yay! A randomness chapter finished.. The result of having nothing to do during Physics! (Yung time na binigay ni sir yung prob. set; wala akong alam so nagdrawing drawing ako.. pati ginawa to. :D**

**AN! (This particular AN is for people like Maan, who wrecks the randomness of this chapter with her logic. KJ niya kasi eh!)**

**The PU part:**

**Usually people say PU when they smell something smelly, wait no, stinky or**_**mabaho**_**. Sabi ni Maan, "phew" daw dapat yun. Well, some people tend to make "phew" longer (like when you say yuuuuuuuck to emphasize the yuckiness). The longer version of "phew" can either be pheeew or "phee-uu" (fii-yuu). Again, some people think that the longer version of "phew" is a load to spell, they made a shortcut spelling of it. Also, these people again don't like the "F" sound on the longer version of "phew", so they instead changed the "F" sound with "P". Hence, PU.**

**Well, they have a point. If you retain the "F" sound then make the shortcut version, the result will be this: "FU". Ang sagwa. Sobra.**

**Mga magrereklamo pa dun sa PU part, pm nyo ko. (Or hanapin nyo ko sa Helium classroom.)**

**(Kung naintindihan nyo yung huling AN, tres bien! (Haha.) Kung hindi, tch. Good luck nalang sayo.)**


	6. Significance

Title: Significance  
Author: mikaruzero  
Pairing: Actually, I'm not sure… :D  
Word Count: 665 words

Ficlet number: 11  
Warnings: This story may not make sense. It doesn't to me much, either. :D It's original story is already in hiatus so…

Disclaimer: I do not own Marie. (and I never will. Di ako fc.)

**(AN:/ Featuring the characters from**_**Valentine's Day**_**! First off – Marie!)**

I didn't think that a car accident could lead to such a significant change in my life.

No, it wasn't because of the possible injuries one could've gotten; I actually returned unscathed. (But the car sure didn't.) And it definitely wasn't because of the despair one would most likely feel when their car totally crashed and smashed to pieces – please, I have 9 more at home.

Actually, it's because of something else. Or rather, some_one_ else.

I remember the crash clearly as if it just happened… uh, a while ago.

As I was soaring through the clouds, flying away from the scene of utter destruction (of the car), I had started thinking about the matter of falling to the ground the moment I started to lose altitude. Shall I fall in a professional manner or shall I descend with swan-like grace? Unfortunately, the answer to that question had not been given a chance to exist. (I had been distracted – I had a broken nail.)

And then the next thing I knew, I was already plummeting towards the ground. I felt blank shock spread all throughout my body; I braced myself and waited for the pain to come –

The next thing I knew, I landed rather painlessly at the ground with a soft thump.

…Soft thump?

I looked down and saw a rather peculiar sight – a person lying face down to the ground.

"Ouch! What the f—"

"Oh, sorry!" I said, quickly leaping to my feet.

The moment I saw his face…

I immediately thought that this person is an insignificant being who was not and doesn't even look or get near to *swoons* Nick's awesomeness. I snickered a bit.

"Our car exploded and the impact caused me to fly away from the explosion and land here." I said, pre-eminence lacing my tone.

"You honestly expect me to believe that?"

I was caught off guard at his answer. Who was he to talk back to me like that in such an unsophisticated skepticism?

"Yes." I said, looking at him and seeing his face for the first time.

I have to admit, I was a bit taken aback; though he had been less blessed in accordance to looks, he has the brightest tan-colored eyes I've ever seen – honest with the texture of soft chocolate..

Chocolate.

Agh! I forgot about that. I _was_ supposed to buy some…

My thoughts full of chocolate, I didn't notice the sirens sounding in the distance, nor the fact that there were newly-arrived medics fussing over me.. Until the person in front of me fainted into my arms.

I smiled at the memory, slowly coming back to the current time. As I stared at the stammering boy in front of me, the very same one who fainted in my arms, holding _it_, I smiled contentedly and commented to myself:

_I can't believe that such an unbelievingly insignificant person as he could possibly bring the significant change of my life._

**AN pt. 1: Yeeeeaaahh, I agree. I didn't think so, either. Haha. Oh, the wonders of being bored during Lunch break. Thank you Kirk (or should I use your username/penname?) for your help. What a wonderful thesaurus you have. :))**

**AN pt. 2 : May ini-imply dito :) Related sa yet to be finished**_**Vday**_**. Wahahaha. Magaling si Kirk, Na-guess nya.**

**AN pt. 3: Walang karapatan ang mga taong magreklamo dito. In Lyra's choice of words: "Fanfic lang naman yan eh. Di totoo." Gayahin nyo sya! (Tapos mas gagawan ko kayo ng fanfic, wahahaha.)**

**Click the Review button here!**

_**OVER HERE.**_

**l**

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**V**


	7. Toilet Seat

Title: Toilet Seat  
Author: mikaruzero  
Pairing: Denzel/Lyra  
Word Count: 626 words

Ficlet number: 13  
Warnings: Oh, just some insanity with the toilet. :D

Disclaimer: None.

Randomness Chapter II

**13. Toilet Seat**

Summary: Girls can turn _everything_ into a big deal.

Even this.

Question: Why do girls get so mad when we guys forget to put down the toilet seat?

That was the question I had thought of when I was at Lyra's house, during her birthday. My thoughts about it were very reasonable and obvious, and I know that the rest of the male population will most likely agree with it:

It's called _forgetting._ Everyone does it! Even people with very good memory like me. Haven't you ever, like, _forgotten_ your math homework or _forgotten_ your pants at home or _forgot_ to feed your cat?

Well, not the pants one, maybe. But still.

But girls get SO mad whenever something stupid like that happens. Girls get worked up over the most insignificant things, like –

Like during Lyra's party! I could remember it as if it was yesterday…(Or maybe because it really _was_ yesterday).

0o0o0o0

"DENZEL DUANE CHUA SOLIABAN! GET YOUR LAZY BUTT DOWN HERE _THIS INSTANT!_" yelled a voice.

Pssh. The voice had to be Lyra, 'cause no one else dares call my butt lazy.

I stomped down there – this had to be quick; I wasn't finished eating yet. And I've waited long enough to eat her cooking.

I went downstairs and saw Lyra leaning on the doorframe to the bathroom, which would've been menacing if I hadn't been about 3 inches taller than her. Not much, but hey, it made her mad.

"Denzel," she said in an eerily calm voice. "Would you care to tell me what's wrong in this room?"

She pointed to the bathroom, and I looked inside.

"Well, for starters," I began, "The ceiling's got little cracks in it, and the paint on the walls is wearing off, and the floor's tiling is kind of funny, and-

"No, Denzel, not the _details_," Lyra said, even more calmly. "Look at the big picture."

I sighed. "Lyra, the picture of fruits on the wall is not very big, so why –"

"LOOK AT THE TOILET, YOU IDIOT!" she screeched.

So I looked.

And looked.

And looked.

And looked.

And saw…

Nothing.

"Yeah, uh, I'm looking, Lyra, and I'm not seeing anythi–"

"THE TOILET SEAT, STUPID!"

I blinked. The toilet seat. _Duh._ Of course. Now everything was clear.

"Lyra, nothing's wrong with the toilet seat, unless you count the fact that it's _green._"

It was like watching a sunset. Lyra's face went from pink to red to orange to a shade lighter than violet then settled back to pink. Huh. If only there had been some gold, it would have been absolutely wonderful.

"Denzel. It's up." She spoke with a short, clipped edge to her voice.

"Oo-kay…"

Lyra screamed in frustration, then stomped upstairs. I heard a door slam, then another scream (I'm guessing that it was being muffled by a pillow, considering the difference in the volume of her two shrieks).

I rolled my eyes. Girls.

...But why did she immediately think to blame _me_ for the toilet seat? (She has other visitors there during her party who could've done that.)

**AN: Um, about the toilet, being green? Uhh, the color of the toilet itself**_**is**_**green (not white, or any other color). Lyra changed colors (haha) because she's getting frustrated at Denzel.**

**P.S. Thank you, Chino, for the wonderful fireworks that you and mommy have gotten into because of the toilet seat. I had the very fortunate opportunity to watch it from the best seat in the house. :D Too bad I didn't get to record it.**


	8. Fries

Title: Fries with Ketchup  
Author: mikaruzero  
Pairing: Troy/KK  
Word Count: 605 words

Ficlet number: 8  
Warnings: Mcdonalds food. It's here.

Disclaimer: I do not claim to say that any of the characters really like Mcdonalds food.

Summary: He's into the fancier things in life. _He's_ into fries. So he just has to deal with eating at McDonalds.

"Why are we here at this... this sanctuary of all things _filthy_when we could be at a nice, formal, _clean_restaurant?" Troy questioned, looking around in disgust at the people stuffing their faces with burgers and gulping down soda.

"Because I like fries," he answered simply, walking over to the line.

He followed him, falling into step beside him. "And what are 'fries'?"

KK gaped at him. "How could you not know about fries?"

He shrugged. "I am usually... treated to the _finer_things in life." _Such as not waiting in line_, he thought to himself as he looked at the line in horror.

KK rolled his eyes. "Well, fries are potatoes chopped in small, thin slices, then fried."

Troy stared at him in horror. "And these 'fries' are supposed to be good?" he asked incredulously.

KK rolled his eyes again. He seemed to have been making a habit of this ever since he started hanging out with Troy. "You'll see."

_Doubt it_, he thought, imagining the fries as greasy, small, fat pieces of potatoes fried. He shuddered at the thought.

KK ordered two medium fries, two hamburgers, and two sodas. "Can you go get the ketchup?"

"Ketchup?" he repeated, confused.

He sighed. "Never mind... just stay here and wait for our order."

KK walked over to the stand and grabbed packets of ketchup. He _loves_ketchup and fries. He walked back to where Troy was, who had a horrified expression all over his features. KK bit back a chuckle.

"What's wrong?" KK asked.

"Is _this_what you ordered?" Troy asked, pointing to the tray of food lying on the counter.

KK sighed. "Yes." He grabbed the tray and started finding a seat.

"And it's supposed to be _food_?" Troy asked, following him.

"Yes," he said through gritted teeth, sitting down in a booth.

"Are you _sure_?"

"Yes!" he screamed, almost standing up from his seat, and making everyone look at him. KK glared at them, and they looked away; Satisfied, he sat down onto his seat. "Now stop asking."

Troy breathed in. "Fine, fine."

"Now eat," KK said, motioning to the food. He started opening up the ketchup and squirting it onto the fries. Troy watched in disgust but didn't say anything. KK lifted a French fry with ketchup on it, and took a bite out of it. He noticed Troy looking and asked, "What?"

Troy had to admit, watching KK eat was entrancing. He could sit there all day watching him.

"Well what?" he asked, dazed.

KK sighed and grabbed a fry. "Eat it," he ordered, handing it to him.

Troy grabbed it hesitantly, stared at it, then at KK, then back at the fry. He slowly brought it to his mouth and took a bite out of it. And to his surprise, he loved it.

"Good?" KK asked, curiosity lacing his tone.

Troy nodded, grabbing another one out of the carton.

"Okay, so here's your hamburger," KK said, handing him the burger.

Troy took it and put it down in front of him. "And what's a hamburger?"

**AN: EXTREMELY CRACK-ISH. Sorry, Troy. It's all McDonalds' fault.**

**(Short explanation: We were**_**supposed**_**to eat pizza (the other day). We got fries instead. Irritated, I decided to write this. Just to torture the unsuspecting couple. WAHAHA.)**


	9. Letter War

Title: Letter War  
Author: mikaruzero  
Pairing: I don't know.  
Word Count: 758 words

Ficlet number: 3  
Warnings: None that I can see.

Disclaimer: I do not claim to say that any of the characters actually respond to one another using snail mail. :D

Disclaimer 2: Haha. _Also, sorry about the stupid parenthesis, but they are the things that JV and Denzel crossed out_, then decided they didn't want to put. Fanfiction wouldn't let me cross out things.

P.S. Please do NOT glare, apprehend, pinch, arrest, kill, strangle, haunt, break, choke, kick, hit – (the list goes on) – me, Lyra, JV and (if you are reading this, which you probably aren't, but I won't take chances) Denzel. After all, this is _just_ a fanfic.

Summary: JV and Denzel decided to fight –

Using letters.

What they didn't anticipate was hell breaking loose - slash - end of the world –

In the form of a very logical Lyra.

Dear Undear Denzel,

I'd appreciate if you'd stop flirting with my Lyra. Oh, and stop asking her out for dates. And staring at her, especially when she's sleeping . Oh, and _making out with her on her front porch at 12 am_.

Yours Untruly,

JV Buena

P.S. Yeah, I saw that kiss! That's right! You watch out there(boy)!

P.P.S. Notice how I crossed out boy because your gender is _un freaking known._

0o0o0o0

John Victor,

I'd appreciate if you'd stop meddling with business that isn't yours. Oh, and what if I told you that Lyra was doing this out of free will? And not because I (sent her a bouquet of 101 roses and gave her jewelry and sang her a song and told her I loved her) did something? Oh, and _who cares?_

Have an unpleasant day,

Denzel Soliaban

P.S It was just one measly kiss! That's nothing (compared to last night)! Besides, how could you have seen it.. Unless you were also there! At (or near) her porch!

P.P.S. And I'm obviously male if I'm dating Lyra – unless you're claiming she isn't female?

0o0o0o0

Undear Duane,

So you admit you tricked Lyra, eh? What did you do? Spray the roses with love potion? Wait, no, you poisoned the flowers with something! Or maybe strangle her with the jewelry? Killed her with your voice? (Told her lies?) Oh, and _me. I care._

Yours Untruly,

J to the freaking V (_not_John Victor) Buena

P.S. I don't even want to know what you've been doing with her. I just want you to stop. So what if I _was_ there near her porch?

P.P.S. Has Lyra been spreading the rumors that she's a girl (_again)?_

P.P.P.S. I'm _so_ telling Lyra all of this.

0o0o0o0

_John Victor_,

Watch me mail Lyra first.

Denzel Soliaban

P.S. How dare you be there near her porch.

P.P.S. No.

P.P.P.S. Not if I can help it.

P.P.P.P.S. It's _Denzel_, you dolt, not Duane.

0o0o0o0

Hey Lyra,

Did you know that (Denzel) Duane secretly spray those flowers he gave you with love potion err, poison? Or meant to strangle you with –

Err.. Anyways.

So, hypothetically, let's say he sent you a letter. And, hypothetically of course, he told you that whatever I tell you in a letter I were hypothetically to send you is a lie.

Well, don't believe it because _he_ is lying. I WIN.

Winningly,

JV

0o0o0o0

Dear Lyra,

I did _not_ spray any flowers with something – in case you were wondering. Which you probably weren't.

And also, in case you were wondering again, which you probably weren't, because why would you, but anyways, if JV were to send you a letter saying that I was going to send a letter in which everything I said would be a lie, don't believe it. Because that's such childish behavior.

Love,

Denzel

(P.S. Oh, and, uh, not to be rude or anything, but you _are_ female, right?)

0o0o0o0

_Dear JV and Denzel,_

Let's get a few things straight, shall we?

One: I am going out with Denzel because I want to.

Two: I have not been poisoned by (something) flowers.

Three: I am of the female gender.

Four: I didn't even bother to finish either of your letters to me.

Five: Though I did get to the part where you asked if I were female, Denzel.

Six: And I would just like to say _What do you think?_

Seven: And love potions don't exist, JV.

Eight: You didn't win anything either.

Nine: Both of you showed 'such childish behavior.'

Ten: Have either of you guys ever heard of _email?_

_From,_

_Lyra_


	10. Of Baboy and BaboyRamo

Title: Of baboy and baboy-ramo  
Author: mikaruzero  
Pairing: Troy/Clarysse, POV: oh, you'll find out :D  
Word Count: 1270 words

Ficlet number: 2  
Warnings: There is insanity here. You have been warned.

Disclaimer: Hey. So there are some things I'd like to clarify.

This is not serious. I am not serious. In fact, I am laughing my butt off as I type.

This will be in Second-Person POV. No, it is not a Choose Your Own Adventure story. It is a one-shot in the said POV.

I don't really like or support the TroyxClarysse pairing, but heck, I figured I should add some spice to the archives and also give this pairing… a chance. Haha.

Don't kill me. Just flame.

Summary: In which mikaruzero does the unthinkable. In which you're sucked in – literally.

In which Troy loves Clarysse and Clarysse loves Troy.

In which insanity presides.

You open your eyes and look up at the ceiling. Not what you would really like to see, but it's not like you have a choice. You roll over in your bed and bury your face in your favorite pillow which has Hello Kitty all over it. You not-so-secretly love Hello Kitty and you imply this fact to anyone whenever you remember it; even the guardhouse people know.

You get up off the bed and realize that something's wrong. First off, it doesn't feel like you'll wilt in the heat, which is often the case at home. There's a cool breeze wafting in through the open windows and you see that the sun is shining in a way that's not painfully bright. _What world have you entered? Where are you now?_

The room is most definitely luxurious. The walls are mint green, so unlike the princess-y pink of your bedroom, which you'd had painted that way after a brief stage of princess obsession. Your bed is four-poster, with lace curtains hanging off of the posts. You then see that your Hello Kitty pillow is non-existent, for the moment, at least. There is a jumbled array of embroidered silk cushions in vibrant hues and fluffy-looking feather pillows in shades of black, grey, brown and white. The bedspread is all-white for the most part.

The furnishings that fill your room are elegant, fit for a queen. The floor is marble, from what you can see of it that isn't covered by the shag carpet.

That is when you walk out of your room and go down the stairs in anxiety, surrounded by unfamiliar territory on all sides.

You step out into the garden. And, for some reason you cannot quite understand, you see Troy. Troy Tolentino, of Helium-III fame. Troy Tolentino, vice president and everyday-full-of-stress-and-looking-like-a-true-GC extraordinaire. Troy Tolentino, whose hair is currently insured by BENCH.

You've never really cared about the hair of people, and now you wonder why you notice _his_ now.

Inexplicably, you can feel what he feels and you can hear what he is thinking. Don't get too excited though. You are not Edward Cullen, nor are you Jasper Hale. You are merely you, a pawn in this story I am writing, powerless and defenseless, haha.

Ehem.

And what is Troy feeling? What is he thinking?

You can feel that he is lost. Insecure. A great drop in morale. Lovesick.

"Is this really Troy we're talking about?" You scream up at the sky.

_Don't interrupt, my dear._

"But I -"

_Don't interrupt._

You zip your lips and concentrate on Troy. Why is he feeling this way? Why is his spirits low? Where did all that normal Troy attitude go?

Clarysse. He is thinking of Clarysee. And how he has discovered, deep deep deep deep deep deep deep deep deep, _waaay_deep down that he loves her. Really, truly loves her. And oh, how the moon shines so solemnly, dull in contrast to her glowing shine. How the stars fall in the face of such innocent beauty. The sun cries in self-pity because it is eclipsed by Clarysse Alfonso.

You go and barf. All over the plants that adorn the garden. Well, it _is_a garden, there _should_be plants.

You decide to come back when Troy returns to normal, not knowing that he will not be normal ever in this story. Your run back inside and ricochet to the wall because you bump into something. And that something is Clarysse Alfonso, who has appeared at the Tolentino mansion with an agenda of her own. She falls with a bump, hitting a side table where a porcelain jar is displayed and it crashes on the floor. You dart off into an alcove and duck underneath a table where you can see her but she can't see you.

Troy has heard the crash and comes running. He sees Clarysse. He grabs her hand and helps her up, asking her if she's all right.

"I'm fine," Clarysse says, picking herself up off the floor.

"Why are you here?" Troy asks, deciding to overlook the fact that his mother's favorite jar is in pieces behind them. After all, he is with his one true love (you barf some more into a vase of flowers on the table above you) and that is what matters.

Clarysse avoids his gaze and tries not to blush because he's still holding her hand. Dread fills you and you shut your eyes. But you can hear her thoughts. You can't avoid it.

She has come here because she has realized that, all along, she didn't love Ian or Tim or Boo or even Wendell. That Troy has been **The One**ever since she first saw him on the stage, singing with the Himig people. And that she's hoping she's not too late because she believes that there are many girls who admire him and it's not long before he'll choose one of them.

(What she doesn't know, however, is that Troy orchestrated those fan mail himself, the ones which say that they love him so much; he also bought bouquets of flowers from foreign florists with random names pulled up from the QCSHS Third Year Batch, which were all sent to him, expressing admiration. You are actually a member of the QCSHS Third Year Batch, and you know that everyone else is as oblivious to this practice as Clarysse is.)

"Clarysse," Troy says, feeling shy. (Shy? S_hy?, you think incredulously_) "I…I…"

Clarysse looks up at him with tender eyes. "I…?"

"I love you," he says, and pulls her in for a kiss.

She is surprised but she kisses him back. When they separate, she says, "I love you, too."

Then they ride off into a glorious sunset, aboard a sleek white yacht, although there is not water outside and it's ten in the morning.

You don't particularly care. You tear your hair out until you are bald; your eyes burn with indignation and disgust at the whole thing, and your heart screams and your mouth does, too.

You escape the hell you've just been subjected to, an unwilling witness to a love story that should have never been written.

You are Lyra Brual, the poor victim, the defiled innocent, the tainted young mind which has been ravaged by shades and shadows of TroyxClarysse.

And you still don't know why you woke up in _Troy's mansion _o_f all places._

_**AN!**_

_**Oh my. I am laughing so hard at this right now. WAHAHAHA.**_

_**Eh, you can flame all you want. This is in fact part of my "How To Get Flames" experiment. If I get five flames, I will add these to the "How To Get Flames" list.**_

_**I hope your eyes didn't burn as much as Lyra's did.**_


	11. Monotonous

Title: Monotonous  
Author: mikaruzero  
Pairing: Clarysse/Troy  
Word Count: 453 words

Ficlet number: 1  
Warnings: None I can see... :D

Disclaimer: None. No one owns this pairing; no one claims it anyway :) :)

Summary: It was repetitive. Cyclic. Annoying.

But with a touch of Troy.

And bleeding eardrums.

"Clarysse."

Said girl looked for the umpteenth time at the speaker; a boy sitting near the door, currently wearing a weird grin. He waved is hand as if to shoo her off, telling the girl that it was nothing. Again. The girl rolled her eyes and went back to what she was doing a while ago: chatting chirpily to her seatmate.

But then it happened again.

A bit differently, this time.

"Clarrrryyyyyyyyse~!"

"Troy. _REALLY_, what are you doing?" said Clarysse, not taking her eyes off Troy.

"Oh, Clarysse." Said Troy, grin getting wider. "Isn't it obvious? I'm singing – stretching my vocal cords to the sing your utterly glorious and beatiful name –"

"Whatever Troy, but why my name?"

"Claaaaaaaryyyyyse Claryyyysee Claaaaarryyyyyyyyyyyyse!"

"Darn it Troy! Why **me**?"

"Because I want to."

"Riiiiiight."

"Yeah.. Claryyyyyyyyyyse Claaaaaaaaaaryse.. CLAAAAARYYYYSE!"

"Ugh, Troy! Oh, look. It started to rain. BECAUSE OF YOU."

"Oh how nice. Rain begins to fall… just like how I'll shower you with my love! Claaaaryyyyyyyse Claaaaaryyyyyyyyyyse Claaaaaaaaaryyyse.."

"Oh yeah? Then me too." Crooned Clarysse, a grin also forming on her face. "I love you so much that I want to eat a pig right now.. like YOU."

The unfortunate spectators to this madness groaned. "My EARDRUMS! They're _bleeding_." Said the nearest witness to the scene.

Troy snorted. "Yeah right Clarysse. Claaaaryyyyse Claryyyyse.. Ohhh ano ba yan ang tabaaa, ang taba ni Clarysse! You should eat yourself if you're looking for a pig."

"At least I'm not a baboy-ramo."

"Baboy."

"Baboy-ramo."

"Baboy."

"Baboy-ramo."

"Baboy –"

"I wonder what'll happen if they mate?" said a random spectator.

Troy and Clarysse immediately stopped teasing and looked at their audience.

"Ewww!" said Clarysse, her expression twisted with disgust. "If that would happen, which most probably will not obviously, a new baboy-ramo—baboy specie will arise, and that would be –"

"Utterly weird and it will cause chaos and disorder the surrounding ecosystems near it—" continued Troy.

"And besides, such a thing would be a physical impossibility since it was highly improbable to even occur in the first place –" cutted Clarysse.

"And the probability of that happening will be a syntax/math error. Thinking about it will turn your and our brains into mush." Finished Troy.

Utter silence filled the inside of the yellow vehicle, only to be broken by:

"CLAAAAAARRRYYYYYSEEE! Ohhh, Claaaaaryyyyysse and tabaaa moooooo~! Claaaaaaaryyyyyse!"

Clarysse turned to her fellow school bus mates. "Just bear with it." She sighed.


	12. Circle are

Title: Circles are…  
Author: mikaruzero  
Pairing: Tim/Blessie  
Word Count: 834 words

Ficlet number: 6  
Warnings: Pfft Consider this a BHR episode... :D

Disclaimer: Yeah, yeah. No use telling me that this pairing is zilch. Whatever. It's here and posted already and you can't do anything about it, right? :)

Summary: "…break. But circles last forever." A lesson both of them would remember for a long time.

"… _The teacher said that we have to draw hearts, Blessie."_

_The little boy, tall for his age and his hair sticking up in messy tufts, bounded over to the crayon-cluttered desk where a girl, with hair tied neatly in a pony tail, was sitting. Tucking his hands in front of him, he leaned over, frowning at the wobbly red circle splattered across the paper in front of the girl._

_The said girl didn't look up, and just traced the circle round and round with the red crayon._

"_Hey…" The boy tried again to catch the girl's attention._

"…"

"_Blessie!"_

"_What, Tim?" Annoyance can be heard clearly from the tone of her voice._

"_Teacher told us to draw hearts for Valentine's day! Can't you read the instructions on the board?" Tim said, exasperated._

"… _Of course I can." Blessie told Tim bluntly then went back to tracing the circle once again._

"_Then why are you not following it?" _

_"I don't want to do hearts." She hadn't even tilted his head to look at him._

"_But it's Valentine's day! Everyone has to draw hearts! It's the obvious thing to do. Here," __Tim tried to take the red crayon from her hand to demonstrate, but she wouldn't budge._

_"...break." Tim heard Blessie's voice become paper-thin and almost whisper-like. He strained his ears. "But circles last forever."_

_Taken back, his fingers slackened and he felt her took control of the crayon. Round and round the circle went, the red bleeding redder with each stroke. He was tracing the circle with her... again, and again, in the one line that had no beginning... no middle, no end..._

…**o0o…**

Tim smiled to himself as he slowly slipped out of his reverie; this distant, long bygone yet bittersweet memory of long ago he still cherishes and treasures. With a look of determination plastered on his face he made his way to a girl, her hair neatly arranged in a cascading pony tail and sitting under the cool shade of a tree nearby, while clutching a wrapped beribboned package in his right hand.

"Blessie," he called out to her.

The girl, who was in the process of putting something in her bag then, looked up at hearing his voice. "Ah, Tim." she said.

"… what's up with that kind of greeting?" Tim said with a mock sulky voice. "Do it with more energy! Say it, 'hi Tim!' Come on, lazybags!"

"Geez," said Blessie, laughing. "Hi Tim! There, happy? You little jokester…"

Tim snorted. "Little? Yeah, says the _tall_ pessismist…"

"Haha, very funny."

"So." Tim said, and Blessie noticed the change in his tone and expression. "I guess he gave it to you already then?"

"What are you talking about?" Blessie asked warily.

"_Him_. I say you putting _it_ inside your bag as I made my way to you. Can I see it?"

"…umm.. sure. Here," Blessie handed a flamboyantly wrapped package to Tim.

"Ah," said Tim, and proceeded to scrutinize it, tracing it with his fingers. As he examined it, Blessie noted that a hint of a smile played along his face. A sad smile.

"Heart-shaped. Figures," snorted Tim. Blessie stared at him. "Here."

"Ah." As Blessie took the chocolate from him, she asked, "And what's the problem with that?"

As if possible, the sad smile on his face deepened more. "I see…" he murmured to himself, but still Blessie caught it.

"Hey, you didn't answer me."

Tim batted away her question and said, "Heh, my turn! Here,"

Blessie had only to a few seconds to look up before she caught a white package, complete with a red ribbon at the side.

"Happy Valentine's day!" grinned Tim as he made his leave and turned around. "I hope you remember what you told me long ago; it was a very valuable lesson to me. Thank you. Bye!"

"Hey wait –" Blessie called out but he was already gone, his farewell almost like a whisper of the wind. As she looked at the package in her hand, there was one particular fact that stuck deep in her head.

It was circular.

It was like an electric current passed in her as buried memories suddenly resurfaced from her mind. Tearing the wrappers, she saw that the chocolate was really round, even the designs.

All circles. No beginnings, no middles, no ends…

A note fluttered from beneath the chocolate wrapper and Blessie bent down on her knees to pick it up. She noted that it was also cut out in a circle.

_Blessie,_

_Hey. You probably think that this is stupid way to start a letter. Yeah, so what if it is? Whatever, we're getting off topic. I just want to say, victory is his. I raise my white flag. Congratulations. I hope (really really hope) that both of you'd be happy. If not, I'll make him regret not making you be._

_Love,_

_Tim_

_P.S. I could only wish I had a circle instead of a heart. That way mine wouldn't have broken like glass._


	13. It's the Apron's Fault

Title: It's The Apron's Fault  
Author: mikaruzero  
Pairing: Nathalie/Don  
Word Count: 383 words

Ficlet number: 12  
Warnings: None I can see... :D

Disclaimer: None. No one owns this pairing; no one claims it anyway :) :)

Summary: … just look at the title. XD

"Don..."

"What?"

"Step away from that plate. I told you that it's not done yet..."

The boy pouted giving her a look, but with a sigh took his fingers away from the freshly baked cookies. Nathalie pushed him out of the way so she could begin taking out the roasted hens she'd put in a few hours before. Three fairly large birds, since her father and her had both invited guests over for a larger Christmas dinner.

And thus the reason why Don had decided to shadow her in the kitchen for the last half hour.

Don took a waft and smirked, "Delicious!"

"Back off mister... don't make me get the racket..." she scowled looking at the mess now that everything was finished and began digging through the drawers, "Now what did I do with that apron..."

Don smirked, "Why, Donat. Can't find it?"

"Don't call me Donat –" Nathalie began as she turned to retaliate but stopped in midsentence as she realized what Don was holding in his hand.

"You…" Don stepped back as Nathalie began to shake and glare at him menacingly. "Dammit Don, give it back!"

"Nuh-uh," Don teased as he made his way to the table. His grin broadened as he was now nibbling on a cookie he'd snatched and as he finished it said, "But Donat! This apron makes you look fat!" And with that he darted away, leaving a very pissed off Nathalie in the kitchen.

"...you little.. How can one even look fat in something like an apron anyway!" Nathalie yelled in an uproar and grabbed for a badminton racket...

Which she found to be missing…

Causing more yells...

Until she slammed straight into him when he suddenly and unexpectedly _stopped_, which only made her angrier as she looked up and was about to start yelling again –

…When she was stopped before she can even begin to do so by a light kiss which Don bent down to press ever so slightly on her, so she found herself instead blushing wildly and staring speechlessly at him while Don smirked broadly at her.

"Why Nathalie, if I knew you were so anxious to chase me under the mistletoe you should've told me earlier!"

He was still grinning as the still red Nathalie yelled to resume the chase.


	14. Lavander Roses

Title: Lavander Roses

Author: mikaruzero  
Pairing: Lyra/Denzel  
Word Count: 535 words

Ficlet number: 20  
Warnings: Spoilers if you haven't read earlier chapters of Angel-Shine! Oh, and flower meanings at the end of the story :)

Disclaimer: Canon pairing, if you will. (Well, as canon as it can be, anyway.) Hooray for this pairing! XD

Summary: It started off randomly that day; a gesture that left her delighted and to him an indirect confession of his feelings. He'd never guess that until now he'd still be giving her those same flowers as well.

"_Hey, Denzel!" said a girl's voice. "Look, it's a flower shop!"_

_Denzel stopped walking and dragged his feet back towards the direction of his friend peering at the flowers behind a colorful shop._

"_Oi, Lyra… Come on, we have to get home already," Denzel said lazily as he glanced at the flowers she was looking at. To his dismay she entered the shop without any hesitation at all._

"_Hey Lyra.." Denzel followed after her and his voice dripped with annoyance as he made his way toward her._

"_Ehhh? Can't we just stay here for a little longer? I want to look at them for a little while…" The said girl, Lyra, pouted at the boy in question._

_Denzel sighed. "No you can't…hmm?" Denzel caught sight of a particular flower and Lyra used this chance to scoot a bit and look at the flowers at the other side of the shop._

_A few minutes passed and Lyra wondered what her friend could be doing._

"_Hey Denzel –" As Lyra began to call out, a rose entered her view._

"_Umm.. Denzel?" Lyra tilted her head to the side, only to see Denzel to be the one holding the flower out to her._

"_Here," Denzel told her with an air of nonchalance, though she was perfectly aware that he was using a more careful tone than e was normally using, "Take it. At least you'd have something to look at as we walk home. Now come on."_

_Lyra blinked as she took the rose, but smiled as she asked Denzel, "Why is it purple?"_

"… _because red roses look too ordinary to me."_

"_Huh?"_

**..o0o..**

"Hey Denzel, what are you doing?"

A girl's voice snapped Denzel back to reality and he looked up. "Oh, Lyra." He grinned up at her.

"Geez, why are you grinning suddenly; that's just freaky," said Lyra, as she stood up and turned to leave.

"Yeah, whatever. Oh, and Lyra?" Denzel called out.

"Hmm?" Lyra turned and a rich sweet fragrance permeated her senses as a bouquet of flowers was thrust to her face.

"What – " Lyra began to phrase her question but Denzel cut in and said, "Here. Happy Valentines day."

Lyra took the flowers but asked Denzel as soon as she saw them, "Wait. Aren't roses usually supposed to be red?"

Denzel barely hid a knowing smile and simply said, "Who said that I'd want to give anything usual?"

"Still, roses on Valentines day… They're usually red… and yet they're purple… no, more like _lavender_. Eh, whatever. At least this way I won't get fat the way chocolates could do to me."

"Yeah, you sure would look a hell lot weirder than now if you'd gain weight and become chubbier."

THWACK!

"Shut it, Denzel."

_Hahhh. Looks she still doesn't get it, _Denzel thought but smiled as he saw Lyra smile at the bouquet when she though he wasn't looking_, I still don't have the courage to confess my true feelings yet, that's for sure… Pfft. Who would've ever thought that love at first sight would last this long?_

**AN:** Lavender roses mean love at first sight.

(People who read Angel-Shine will understand what this has got to do with Lyra/Denzel fluff XD)


	15. Senses of Love Part 1

Title: Senses of Love (Part 1)  
Author: mikaruzero  
Pairing: Nathalie/Don  
Word Count: 398 words

Ficlet Number:14  
Warnings: None I can see... :D

Disclaimer: None still. Hahahaha. :)

POV: Nathalie

Summary: Just read on. Like I'd actually tell you. :)

**Sight**

He had messy hair. A just-got-out-of-bed look. Sharp, intelligent brown eyes. A brash, lopsided grin that he often uses and makes people function out of order for reasons I cannot fathom (yes, even I have felt like this). Athletic and agile. Not to mention handsome. (Definitely. But sshh!)

He was the student council vice president.

But he was also a school heart throb.

He was incredibly popular. He has a fans club. (Though he probably doesn't know it.) He has lots of girls lining up for his attention.

Simply put, he was out of my reach.

**Smell**

Soap. Fresh laundry.

(Well, that was unexpected.)

I expected him to reek of designer cologne. Of expensive scents and the like. Why did he opt to refuse to dab himself with fragrances? (Well, I guess it'd be out of character for him to do that but…)

Pfff. Whatever the reason, I'm thankful for his choice of scent; he smells (ugh, I sound like a pervert) closer to home, near and almost within reach…

Almost.

**Hearing**

Oh, he talks. A whole freaking _lot_. He's like a living, breathing, walking chatterbox. He can't seem to stop yakking or ranting. Non-stop, some days. He always knows what/when/how to touch a nerve. Always the teasing. The constant gentleman attitude, cool-as-a-cucumber composure, and the way you get the impression that he knows something yet he refuses to point-blank tell you…

It's just so extremely aggravating.

"_A dog having a wet nose doesn't mean that it has a runny nose; it's natural it's like that because the only places dogs sweat are on their paws and their noses. You want to take care of a dog yet don't even know that? Jeez."_

_Thwack!_

"_Ow!"_

"_Shut up, Don!"_

_(Please don't.)_

_(I like your voice. The silence is unbearable when you quiet down.)_

My name. I like it when you say my name. When it passes through your lips sometimes (even when you include your name when you say it; it makes me happy to hear my name with yours.)

"_Don."_

"_What?"_

"_Don."_

"_What is it, Donat?"_

"_Nothing. And don't call me Donat!"_

_(No. It was everything.)_

_(And I like to call you by your name, too.)_

**Taste**

Chocolate. Milk Chocolate.

**Touch**

He was like air; all around, rarely immobile and moving here, there, everywhere.

But where?

A breeze grazing past her cheeks.

He was -

(_"Right here."_)


	16. Truce

Title: Truce

Author: mikaruzero  
Pairing: Nathalie/Don  
Word Count: 535 words

Ficlet number: 17  
Warnings: None, really :))

Disclaimer: I claim the rights for the badminton racket who can speak the 'dot language'. :))

Summary: Well, if you can't beat them, join them :D And, not surprisingly, Don did exactly that.

_**I can't make you love me, want me, or understand me…All I can do is hope that someday you will.**_

They were staring at each other intently, neither moving a single inch.

Don, with all his vast experience, was finding it hard to keep a straight face and not flinch at his opponent's incredibly stillness. It was kind of funny actually since it was the first time, in all the years they had known each other, that they were face to face and neither moved.

"So…" Don started. "I know you don't like me. It's my fault that you are being used for something so violent when your real job is so much easier…"

"…"

Don swallowed the big lump in his throat. "So, I gathered all my strength to come here to talk to you and maybe make a truce."

"…"

"Because you hit pretty damn hard, you know? And last time it took me longer to regain consciousness."

"…"

"I also know it's not entirely you fault." He sighed and chuckled a bit at the memory. "I think I crossed the line a bit too much last time, hmm?"

"…"

"I know, I know…but she looks too cute sometimes, can you blame me?" He grinned sheepishly.

"…"

"And I find it my personal duty to call her her adorable nickname everyday."

"…"

"Yeah, I know…but we could maybe try to get along better, okay? Someday? I know it will take time but…"

"…"

"So…we have a deal?"

"…"

"What do you mean you can't promise anything?"

"Um… Don?"

Don looked up, from his crouched position on the floor, towards his best friend staring at him with a confused expression from the classroom door.

"Yeah?" He blinked at her.

"Um…why are you talking with my badminton racket?"

Don blinked again. "…we are trying to make a truce…"

Nathalie stood there for another good few seconds, still trying to take in the image of her best friend talking with her badminton racket, before slowly nodding her head and walking back to her seat, sitting down with disbelief still written across her face.

'_Oh God…I think I hit him __**too **__hard this time…'_


	17. On the Other Side

Title: On the Other Side  
Author: mikaruzero  
Pairing: Lyra/Denzel  
Word Count: 444 words

Ficlet number: 16  
Warnings: Mentions of a parallel-dimensioned Lyra/Denzel relationship XD

Disclaimer: Oh, the usual. :)

Summary: … it's there. Below.

**ON THE OTHER SIDE**

A set of ten prompts each for Denzel.

It's always on Lyra's side of the wall, isn't it?

So this time…

Let's climb over that wall.

**Mask**

Denzel always puts on a mask, whatever the situation. He never shows his true face and instead conceals himself behind his veil of feelings.

Why, though, do his walls crumble and his masks falter when he's beside her? Why does she have this effect on him?

**Climb**

Denzel liked climbing. It was a challenge and challenges always appealed to him. Whenever he could, he climbed.

Sometimes, though, he felt like it would take a long time before he could cover enough distance to reach her.

**Superior**

He was superior. It was, it _is_a fact. Nothing could ever compare to him.

So how come he felt so inferior next to her?

**Poison**

She poisoned him; on every sense, every level, every bit of his being. She poisoned him with her smile, her temper, her witty use of words, her vulnerability, her courage, her determination, her warm chocolate eyes.

Denzel wondered what formula she used, and if there was even an antidote for so potent a toxin.

**Breathe**

Holding her, he couldn't breathe. Next to her, he couldn't breathe. Watching her, he couldn't breathe. When she was around, he couldn't breathe. Without her, he couldn't breathe.

Denzel wondered how he was still alive despite all those moments he'd been left breathless.

**Words**

The first thing that he had known they both liked. The one that symbolized the link that bound them. In Denzel's mind, it was the starting point of this crazy ride.

He loved words.

Especially when he exchanges them wittingly with her.

**Protect***

All he wanted was to protect her. Keep her safe. Despite his limitations, he did what he could to help.

Except for the fact that he couldn't protect her from heartbreak.

**Selfish***

Yes, he was selfish. He had always been selfish. No one ever dared to get in his way when he wanted something.

So he couldn't understand why he didn't take her for himself and instead let her go.

The one time he _needed_to be selfish, he had been _selfless._

**Winner***

Denzel was a winner. He never lost. He was always triumphant.

Seeing her with _him_, however, made him feel like a loser for the first time in his life.

**Trap***

Oh, the many traps he'd set. The many methods he devised. Whatever his dominion said, he had been the one to plan all those.

Why then, he thought to himself, did he not trap her heart and reel her in?

Because she deserved to be free.

**AN:** The asterisk means umm… is a Lyra/Denzel relationship on a parallel dimension (okay, what kind of explanation is that). Uh, let's say that's what Denzel will think when he's not Lyra's partner in a pairing… like when it's Lyra/Jason… (though _when_ I will compose such a piece, I'm not sure. :P)


	18. Senses of Love Part 2

Title: Senses of Love (Part 2)  
Author: mikaruzero  
Pairing: Nathalie/Don  
Word Count: 539 words

Ficlet number: 19  
Warnings: None I can see... :D

Disclaimer: Nope, nada. :)

POV: Don

Summary: Same as Part 1. :)

**Sight**

She was a sight to behold. No words can accurately describe her.

But still, he might as well try.

She was like a whirlwind in motion. This little tornado is full of energy and guts, hyper yet her beauty never degrades even with such other qualities; the only thing missing from Ms. Twister would be the path of destruction behind her, he'd guess.

(But even without it, he can [and will] easily follow her anywhere [and wherever] she'll go.)

In the canvas of his mind, he can trace the way her shoulders squared, her lips pursed in a defiant plane, the angles of her face tilting down into a frown (though he much prefers her to smile more often but it seems.. that the sight of him upsets her. Or something.). He would take a piece of charcoal and shade in shadows under her chin, the one spot that dimpled between her brows, taking care not to smudge the endearing chaos that was her hair, a careless halo around her face. And her lips parted into two rosy petals of awe, to be gently painted with innocent pink, as well as those soft cheeks not so easily could be teased into a blush.

And, of course, her intense obsidian eyes.

Those endearing and bright eyes not unlike two elusive spotlights; always looking the other way, so unlike those other girls he knew. While it may be true that many girls out there want to catch his eye (yes, he is actually aware that he has a fans club), he wants nothing else but to capture hers.

And that's exactly what he'll do.

**Smell**

Sugar.

A cloudy day in February, she thrust the pink package into his arms.

_"What is it?"_

Her cheeks flamed. Not meeting his eyes, she snapped -

_"Poison."_

Grinning, he unwrapped the package, took a bite of the poison, and leaned in - pressing his lips against hers –

_"Boo, you're dead."_

**Hearing**

Name-calling and enraged screams and yells. But he doesn't care. It's her voice that counts. On days when all you've heard all day were the seriousness of the voices in the council, stern atmospheres in meetings, and more-often-than-not flirty voices of some upperclass(wo)men and classmates, hearing her voice is like a symphony straight from heaven. Oh, how he likes their word fights, their snaps and retorts, and their mini-World-War-III's. Teasing her is worth it, making the monotony and dull flow of his day break into disarray at her spontaneity.

But he likes it most when she says his name. Especially when it's for no reason, when she thinks it annoys the hell out of him (when, in fact, fills him up with pure happiness and butterflies in his stomach).

He wonders when he will have that courage to tell her name too, for no reason at all. (No teasing nicknames. Just hers.)

**Taste**

Chocolate.

Milk Chocolate.

(_but it might have been him_)

**Touch**

They were a puzzle.

Her fingers intertwined in his. Filling in the gaps. The soft curve of her palm nestling against his calloused one. His slender fingers, coiled, resting in the arc between her thumb and her index finger, bridging two hands as one. Tugging, swaying, staying.

A perfect fit.


	19. Eavesdropping

Title: Eavesdropping  
Author: mikaruzero  
Pairing: Nathalie/Don, but POV: Bantang  
Word Count: 954 words

Ficlet number: 15  
Warnings: Beware of the major innuendos.

Disclaimer: Justin here is Nathalie's BROTHER. :D Siya ang napili kong gawin na torture subject muahahahaha.

Summary: "No, love," he said, amused. "Such a worrier. You won't need to wear anything, specifically." Justin fell to the ground and being retching.

"I'm just a bit afraid, Don. You see," she confessed, "it's my first time."

Don looked at her, careful not to let the shock appear on his face. "It's your first time?" he asked.

Nathalie nodded, her eyes looking away from him. "I-yeah," she said. "I'm scared- what if I do something wrong?"

Justin Bantang was walking past the bedroom door that was left slightly ajar when he heard his sister's voice. _What was she talking about?_ He paused for a minute to hear what Don's answer was.

Don looked at the girl sitting next to him. "Don't worry, DONat," he said confidently. "It'll be fine. Remember, I'll be with you the whole time. We'll do it together."

Nathalie looked at him. "Promise?" she asked.

"Promise," he said. "I've done it thousands of times before."

Justin didn't know whether to scream or run or go find a samurai sword and a memory potion so he could destroy Don with the sword and use the potion to relieve his mind from the horrible things he was hearing. His body, however, forced him to stay and hear what Nathalie would say to Don's disgusting profession.

"Oh," she said, sounding grateful. "Well, that's good. My first time, and I'll be doing it with an expert."

Don smiled at her. "Lucky you."

"Lucky me, indeed," she said. "Is there anything I need to wear, specifically, maybe like-

"No, love," he said, amused. "Such a worrier. You won't need to wear anything, specifically."

Justin fell to the ground and being retching.

"Alright, then," Nathalie said sounding considerably less nervous than before. "Then I'll be right back, okay? I've got to go to the restroom," she excused herself, then walked out of the door, not paying much heed to her sixteen-year-old brother who was rolling around on the floor, looking like he wanted to commit seppuku.

When she came back, she noticed Justin was gone. She didn't wonder too much about where he had gone, and when she heard the door slam downstairs she assumed he had gone to Matthew or Ahlen or one of his friends' house.

"Okay, Don," she called to Don. "Ready?"

He sprung up. "Let's do this."

Lyra, the newly-hired salesperson, stood inside Bath and Body Works, warmly welcoming customers while handing out little baskets for them to keep their selected items in.

"Hello, welcome to Bath and Body Works," she greeted to the old lady in purple flowered capris. "Would you like a bag?" The lady obliged.

The little bell on top of the door rung again and Lyra turned to the door, a good-natured smile plastered onto her face, ready to welcome the next customer.

The next customer, however, turned out to be a teenage boy with lovely brown eyes. He was as pale as a ghost, though, and looked as though he had just seen one. He was carrying what looked like a samurai's sword, and Lyra couldn't be sure whether it was real or not.

"Hello, welcome-

"You wouldn't happen to have a memory destroying potion here, would you?" he asked hurriedly, getting straight to the point.

"I-er, no, sorry," she said, not used to such questions being asked to her. She was new to the job, after all. But the poor boy looked so dejected at her negative response, she thought she should do something to make him feel better.

"Don't worry," she said hesitantly. "I'm sure you'll find, um, a memory destroying potion somewhere," she said.

He sighed, fingering his samurai sword.

Then Lyra remembered that she worked at Bath and Body Works, and couldn't just let a customer go without trying to get him to buy something.

"But since you're here, do you want to buy something?" she asked brightly. "Perhaps for a cousin, or maybe you have a sister?"

The boy paled even more, if possible. "Sister-Don-sister-gah-_commit seppuku_," he began spluttering.

Lyra gulped. Was this boy mentally stable? She looked at him, and then at the sword in his hand. Was it safe for him to have that?

"Uh, sir," she asked tentatively, "Is that sword real?"

His eyes flashed and he looked up at her, his blue-hoodie clad arm pointing the sword up at her. "Wouldn't you like to know," he said ominously.

Then he disappeared out the door, the bell ringing as it closed.

Lyra stared at the door for a minute in shock, till it opened again and another customer walked in, this one a tall blonde lady with pearls in her ears.

"Hello, welcome to Bath and Body Works. Would you like a bag?"

"That was really fun," Nathalie told Don. "Let's do it again sometime, okay?"

He grinned. "Of course. Bowling is always fun, I told you!"

"Yeah," she said. "And there I was, all worried for nothing."

"When you're with the bowling expert, there's nothing to ever worry about," he said. "Have a nice night, DOnat."

He kissed her chastely on her front porch, then drove off.

Nathalie smiled to herself. Overall, she'd had a nice day.

Though, strangely, Justin wouldn't talk to her for the next four days; every time she said something to him he'd turn a nauseating green and sprint upstairs to his room, muttering something about a memory destroying potion.

Review, please, even if it's to tell me that if this fanfiction sounds soooo wrong. :D


	20. Autocorrect

Title: Autocorrect  
Author: mikaruzero  
Pairing: Nathalie/Don  
Word Count: 595 words

Ficlet number: 18  
Warnings: Beware of the author's insanity.

Disclaimer: Autocorrect in cellphones don't necessarily malfunction such as the ones in this fanfic so no worries. :D

DISCLAIMER 2: Okay, the characters are Nathalie, Don (her boyfriend), Justin (Nat's brother), and CK (Nat's sister). :D

Summary: Sometimes autocorrect malfunction is getting far too annoying for comfort.

_Nathalie:_ Don? You there?

_Don:_ yeah

_Nathalie:_ You coming down to the dorms to celebrate Justin's bitchday?

_Don:_ Bitchday?

_Nathalie:_ Arrgh Autocorrect. I meant birthday.

_Don: _Yeah alright what time?

_Nathalie:_ after diaper.

_Don:_ Diaper?

_Nathalie:_ I hate autocorrect. Dinner.

_Don:_ why don't you turn it off? And sure whatever.

_Nathalie:_ I'll meet you at the gate.

_Don:_ As long as it's not in a diaper.

_Nathalie:_ Stop being immature

_Don:_ I am not immature

_Nathalie:_ where are you?

_Don:_ library, why?

_Nathalie:_ I want to whack your head off

_Don:_ And you call me immature.

_Nathalie:_ That's not immaturity, it's practicality.

_Don:_ But I thought you wanted to marry me?

_Nathalie:_ you're unbelievable

_Don:_ So, Justin's birthday.

_Nathalie:_ what about it?

_Don:_ What are we going to do for it?

_Nathalie:_ Justin isn't really having a birthday. I just want to get you alone down here.

_Don:_ What! DONat, I know you love me but this is taking it a little too far.

_Nathalie: _I loooovvvvvee you Donnie

_Don:_ Nathalie. That's enough, are you on marijuana or something?

_Nathalie:_ oh man I'm so sorry, Justin got hold of my phone.

_Don:_ tell him from me, he's a git.

_Nathalie:_ done. So Justin's bakeday.

_Don:_ so we're baking Justin now?

_Nathalie:_ You know what I mean. Damn autocorrect.

_Don:_ So, did you really mean those things what Justin said?

_Nathalie:_ No

_Don:_ *heart shatters into a billion people*

_Nathalie:_ a billion people?

_Don:_ I meant pieces. Now your autocorrect is stuffing up

_Nathalie: _No, pretty sure yours is.

_Don:_ I mean mine! Geez I need a new phone.

_Nathalie:_ Anyway, I think that you should get your ass down here so we can continue this conversation in person. I'm not on an unlimited plan you know. I'm not filthy rich like your family

_Don:_ My family are NOT filthy rich!

_Nathalie:_ They are and don't deny it.

_Don:_ Will you stop complaining if I get father to put you on my plan.

_Nathalie:_ I'm not complaining. Merely stating that you have LIES of money

_Don:_ hey, My parents earn honest money!

_Nathalie: _GOD! I meant LOTS. I...HATE...AUTOCORRECT!

_Don:_ sure is anything.

_Nathalie:_ what?

_Don:_ ANNOYING!

_Nathalie:_ I know hey.

_Don:_ so back to you not loving me

_Nathalie:_ And your heart shattering into a million people.

_Don:_ and you call me immature

_Nathalie: _shut up

_Don:_ i know you love me

_Nathalie:_ i know, I love you sosososososososo much

_Don:_ I demand that you give Nathalie her phone back Justin

_Nathalie:_ It's not Justin, It's CK

_Don:_ Oh. CK, give DONat her phone back

_Nathalie:_ oh man, Don I'm sorry, I get up for one minute and those gits take my pants

_Don:_ gotta protect your pants from your relatives

_Nathalie: _DAMN YOU TO HELL AUTOCORRECT! I meant my phone

_Don:_ and about me being your true love?

_Nathalie:_ no comment

_Don: _I know you love me

_Nathalie:_ I hare you

_Don:_ ?

_Nathalie:_ FUCK AUTOCORRECT. I hate you

_Don:_ *depressed*

_Nathalie:_ why?

_Don:_ You fucked the autocorrect

_Nathalie:_ ...

_Nathalie:_ We _will_ continue this conversation in person or I'll totally whack your head off.

_Don_: okay, okay. sheesh


End file.
